


A Wedding (With Mild Interruptions for Kidnapping)

by AroAceArrowAce, EVVS



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Kidnapping, Daddyhawk, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AroAceArrowAce/pseuds/AroAceArrowAce, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EVVS/pseuds/EVVS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Steve and Bucky want is to have their wedding in peace, but it's difficult when their teammates keep going missing every other week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> This thing spawned from a long conversation about how if Bucky and Steve were getting married, Clint would be the guy quietly going "Gaaaaaaayy". (And he just so happens to be the only straight person in this fic.)

He has to stay up later than Steve and pretend to watch the terrible late, late night talk show guys, neither of whom are even worth a damn as comedians. But feigning interest in it is enough to get Steve to sweetly kiss him goodnight and head to bed, which not only allows Bucky to watch his cute little butt disappear into their bedroom but also buys him some time to steel his nerves.

He’d written the note a few days ago and kept it in his pocket to make sure he couldn’t back out. He’s been looking at the ring on a regular basis to remind himself that he could do this. Now it just boils down to a matter of finally taking action and maybe even some prayers to whatever hellish god controls this awful universe.

He can do this.

Anxiety boils up inside of him again, but he reaches into his pocket and feels for that piece of paper that he knows the words written on by heart. He has to do this at some point, and as much as he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, damn he wants it. He fought his way through a war for Steve, he fought his way through recovery for Steve, and he is damn sure he could fight his way through an ocean of self-loathing for that obnoxiously perfect man.

The ring box is in his pocket. He has his note scrawled out. He can do this. Deep breaths.

There are times the whole assassin training comes in handy for him, especially when he needs to sneak into their bedroom on tiptoes, which then becomes a process of very carefully opening the ring box and putting it on Steve’s nightstand and unfolding his note in the utmost silence, all while keeping his left arm totally still. That’s the time when the super soldier hearing doesn’t come in handy.

Maybe it’s sort of a cop out of the whole proposal situation. But he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally snapping at Steve if he says no, he doesn’t have to worry about the added stress of actually asking causing an anxiety or panic attack, and he doesn’t have to deal with the face-to-face rejection that he isn’t worth marrying. Because realistically, he is barely worth dating, let alone marrying. How Steve has managed to put up with him this long is… unbelievable.

It’s set up. He’s done. He can go to bed now and hope he doesn’t sleep too restlessly over his constant nagging fear that Steve is just with him because Steve’s a damn good guy who wants to help his fucked up friend out. Bucky swallows his doubts because he can’t deal with those now, doesn’t want another anxiety attack, has to get some shut eye.

So, circling back around the bed and ever so quietly slipping under the covers, he takes one last steeling breath before wrapping his arms around Steve, who shifts only ever so slightly and gives a quietly contented sigh. One last time, he runs that note through his mind:

_Put it on if you say yes. Put it back in my drawer if you say no. Either way, I’ll have breakfast ready. I love you no matter what._

He presses his face against Steve’s skin and breathes him in, really hoping neither of them has a nightmare tonight to ruin his careful preparation.

\--

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

Steve was supposed to wake up, see the ring, and slide it on. He was supposed to smile, maybe chuckle a little. He was supposed to come out and see the breakfast Bucky made and break out into the same smile he had the morning after Bucky slipped into his apartment after months of hiding. He was supposed to slip his arms around him, the cold of the ring pressing into Bucky’s bare chest, and he was supposed to mumble sweet nothings into Bucky’s shoulder, and they were supposed to be engaged.

Steve wasn’t supposed to say no.

Or at least if he said no, everything else wasn’t supposed to go horribly wrong. If he said no, he was going to come in and eat his breakfast and maybe say something about why he said no.

Their breakfast wasn’t supposed to be interrupted by a frantic call from Tony, saying that Doctor Doom’s doombots were attacking downtown. That everyone was getting called in.

Steve wasn’t supposed to have that broken look on his face.

But it doesn’t matter now. What matters now is the feel of the doombots breaking beneath his hands, the feel of his boots hitting the ground, the protection of the people he went to war for so long ago. It doesn’t matter that Steve’s love for him is only temporary, has only ever been temporary. It doesn’t matter that it’s probably just left over affection for the man who went to war so long ago. It doesn’t matter that the only reason he came back, the only reason he isn’t in a ditch somewhere in the rural backwash of Europe, doesn’t love him the same way.

Bucky goes to dodge another shot, but his distraction weighs on him, making him too slow to get completely out of the way. The burning sensation where the laser hit is spreading down his side, but it still hurts less than seeing Steve walk out without the ring that morning. Still hurts less than knowing that it’s all going to end.

He means to turn around and break the doombot that had fired on him, but found Steve- No, found _Captain America_ , standing in his way. He's got that look on his face, the same one he had whenever Bucky came back from a mission with cuts and scrapes and broken bones and bullet holes, the one that asks what the hell Bucky was thinking without Steve ever opening his mouth.

"What's wrong?” And his voice is demanding an answer. “You've been distracted all day." 

Bucky looks around, trying desperately to find a way out of this conversation, knowing that he's already on the edge of breaking and he doesn’t want Steve to see.

"It doesn't matter." At this, Steve's face softens for a moment, then twists itself in confusion, and he moves as if to catch Bucky's chin in his hand but pulls back before he can make contact.

“No, it matters to me. It matters so much to me, and you know this.” Steve tries to catch his hand, but he pulls away, trying to pull back into himself for his own mental security.

“No, it doesn’t. You can stop pretending it does. I know you’re just here out of some twisted sense of duty. You don’t actually love me. Not who I am now.” Bucky’s yelling now, trying to get the words out, like maybe, just maybe, on their way out, they’ll push the remaining pieces of his heart back together.

“What do you mean ‘who you are now’? I lo-”

 _BANG!_ Steve goes flying as a robot hits him, shocking Bucky out of the mental state he’s been locked in since Steve started talking.

“Uh. What just happened?” Clint asks through the com link, sounding about as confused as the rest of them feel right now. “I could’ve sworn we were about to have a moment here. Did someone forget to take out the rest of the robots?”

“One of the ‘bots nabbed Cap. Falcon, we’ve got to go after him, now.” Stark sounds like he’s about as frantic as Bucky feels right now. But Bucky knows that he has to be the one to go after Steve. He turns and sees Falcon about to take off, and Bucky knows what he’s gotta do. He moves to where Wilson is crouching.

“Sorry, kid, I need these.” Bucky abruptly snatches Wilson’s pack off his back and straps it on without hesitation. Can’t be that hard to use. Just spread the arms and jump.

“Hey! Those are mine!” Wilson’s shouting after him, but it’s too late for that, Bucky’s already in the air and following the bot that grabbed Steve. Even from this far away, he can see Steve fighting it, but if he hasn’t gotten out already, that thing has to be stronger than it looks.

“Barnes, what are you _doing_?” Stark pulls up next to him, but Bucky doesn’t really care about that right now. They’re closing in on Steve, and he knows that Stark will take care of anything surrounding them.

He pulls up alongside the bot, and Steve finally takes the moment to look up but has to do a double take to notice that, yeah, that is Bucky wearing Sam’s wings. 

“Buck?! What the hell are you doing?” squawks Steve in surprise as he begins to try to pry himself free from this robot’s grip. But Bucky’s having none of that because he grabs ahold of the bot and starts looking for a way to bring it down. When the bot starts to swing at Bucky to shake him loose, Steve shouts, “How the fuck did you get a hold of Sam’s wings?! No, don’t answer that, just get out of here!”

He isn’t listening. Bucky spots a weak joint by the neck and starts to crawl his way up the bot. His metal arm grips too hard on one of the bot’s arms, thankfully not the one holding Steve, and it comes flying off. It bangs against one of the wings, and when Bucky looks behind him to check for damage, he sees that one of the wings is spiraling down into the city. Great.

His head swings around, looking for Stark, knowing he can’t pull this off on his own anymore. “Junior, I need you to cover me here. Also, you need to replace Wilson’s wings.” The second part of that is just an afterthought though because Bucky is already turning back to work his way to the weak spot on the bot’s neck, ignoring the protests from the flying geeks from the comms.

This thing isn’t going down easy, and it’s really pissing Bucky off. With a huff, he growls, “Goddammit, Steve. I always have to save your ass. Remind me again why the fuck I wanted to marry you.”

“Wait, what? Bu-” And there’s the power core. Junior damn well better be catching them because here goes nothing.

“Can’t leave you two alone for a second without you needing some sort of rescue. Can’t even keep stolen wings intact, nooooooo,” bitches Stark as he’s at their side just in the nick of time. Bucky grabs hard onto Steve’s hand with his flesh arm, leaving the metal one free to make finger-sized dents in Stark’s arm. Meanwhile, the bot is falling through the air down to the city, helpless as a bag of bricks.

The second that they touch down, the nagging doubts come back, buzzing around inside his skull. The doubts that Bucky just isn’t enough for Steve, no matter what he does. He lets go of Stark’s arm and starts to pull away from Steve, but the man just clenches his hand tighter.

“Buck! Bucky, what the hell were you saying on that robot?” Bucky can’t even remember, he was too distracted by the fact that Steve was getting dragged away from him. That he was about to lose Steve. “You’ve been weird all day, and I know that you said something while we were up there. Just talk to me, Buck. You know I care.”

“If you care so much, why didn’t you take the ring?” 

“What ring?”

“What ring? What ring he asks,” Bucky’s laughing now, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s crying so hard, and he knows that this is the moment when it all falls apart, as if they haven’t fallen enough today. “The ring I was asking you to marry me with. Or didn’t you notice?”

“I think I would have noticed a damn ring considering I’ve been trying to give you one for the last week!”

The last statement out of Steve’s mouth was just loud enough that it caught the attention of the rest of the Avengers. Tony seems to have frozen beside them before taking a few steps back, and even the Hulk is silent in this moment.

“Really?” It’s a miracle that Steve was able to hear that, no more than a whisper on the wind. He tilts Bucky’s chin up so that their eyes can meet, fingers gentle on his skin.

“Of course. I love you. All of you. I love the person you are now. I love the way you’re an equally insufferable morning person as me. I love the way you put your hair into a bun when you’re trying to focus on some new technology Stark has given us. I love the way you can’t seem to cook anything but breakfast food and lasagna. I love the way you know that Natasha’s braiding your hair when we play Mario Kart, and you just let her do it. I love that you’ve let Wanda and Pietro join in. Though that I’m not so sure if it’s because you don’t mind or because you’re terrified of what will happen to you if you try to stop them.” Bucky lets out a chuckle at this, a smile starting to grow on his face. “I love the way you keep fighting, even with all you’ve been through, even with so many memories missing. I love the ways you’ve changed and the ways you haven’t. You might not be the same Bucky I grew up with, but I’m not the same Steve you grew up with. We’ve changed. And every time you show how different you are from the James Buchanan Barnes I grew up with, I fall a little more in love with you. And I will always love you.”

Steve drops one of his hands to his belt, where all the pockets that he insisted be included are. He lets Bucky’s face slide out of his hand, as he slips to one knee.

“So please let me show the whole world, let me show you, just how much I love you. James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?”

The ring he holds up is gold, with a star engraved around a red stone. It’s simple, and it’s perfect. It’s much better than the silver band that he had left next to the note on the bedside table that morning. It’s so much better than anything he could have ever come up with. 

Bucky starts to nod, holding back both tears and laughter, and it doesn’t matter that the others are giving him odd looks. It doesn’t matter that Pietro is still zipping around taking down the last of the doombots. It doesn’t matter that the two of them are out of place, out of time, that their families will never get to see them this happy. None of that matters because Steve is sliding the ring onto his right hand, is tugging him in, is kissing him, is wrapping his arms around his waist. Steve’s barely pulled back before Bucky’s chasing after his lips, chasing after this feeling of perfection. They’re laughing and Bucky’s crying and they’re not really kissing so much as pressing their faces together at the mouth.

Bucky pulls back just enough to get a whisper out but not slip out of Steve’s grip.

“You’ve been trying to do this for a week?”

Steve groans and leans his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Seriously, a week. Like, a full seven days. Including this morning. And you know when MODOK attacked last week in the middle of our dinner? I was gonna ask at the end of that. And then Loki attacked the next day, then AIM, then Hydra. Then Loki AGAIN. I swear, he only attacked that second time because he saw me drop the ring box the first time!” Bucky’s laughing against him now, his whole body shaking with that laughter, and it makes Steve smile. “AND THEN LAST NIGHT, you’ll love this Buck, Tony’s freaking robots! And Tony knew I was going to ask that night! I had the tower cleared out and everything! I had our phones on silent so, even if the world was ending, WE WOULDN’T BE GETTING THE CALL! But no. He just HAD to be messing around with the robots, instead of out getting dinner with the rest of the team. And then this morning, I was going to try to give it another shot, and then we got called out, and I was just grabbing everything, that’s why I had the ring in my pocket, and all I could think was that Tony was a pain in the a-” 

Bucky’s still laughing as he leans in to cut him off, because none of that matters now, now that they’re here, now that there’s a ring warming on his finger, now that he knows Steve will always love him. He’s laughing, and he’s smiling so wide that it’s less of a kiss and more of a clicking of teeth against each other. And they can’t stay like that for long, because his smile keeps getting bigger, keeps growing until it’s bigger than when they went to see Howard Stark’s flying cars, bigger than when Steve rescued him from the Hydra base, bigger than after their first kiss. His smile keeps growing, and he knows he’s going to keep falling in love with Steven Grant Rogers for the rest of their lives.


	2. Bachelor Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never let Natasha plan a bachelor party. Or Thor for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Lord, this took ages, sorry, we started school
> 
> (By the way, Pietro and Wanda are like nineteen)

Sam knows that he’s supposed to be taking a bathroom break somewhere in Asgard. But, it’s so easy to get lost in that big shiny palace, especially when every room is seemingly made of gold and everything is twice as big as it would be on Earth. And it’s pretty easy to “accidentally” end up by the Bifrost.

Yeah. That’s what he’ll tell Steve if someone spots him.

Because, it’s not like he’s secretly reporting back to Steve’s wonderful, terrifying, vaguely murderous, assassin fiancé, and said assassin fiancé’s assassin best friend about this whole endeavor. Not at all.

At least he’s not either of the twins.

Sam waves at Heimdall as he jogs by. He’s done this a couple times tonight, (which it’s always fun to say that he drank too much water or that the Bifrost makes him sick as an excuse to run off) though there hadn’t been much to report. Thor had insisted that everyone first present themselves to his father, something about how no one in Asgard was allowed to get drunk without first presenting their best selves blah blah blah honor blah blah blah alcohol. Sam wasn’t paying much attention. He just bowed out of that, claiming he didn’t drink after the Air Force beat it out of him (tactfully never mentioning the fact that he was actually the shots champion of his training unit).

Heimdall nods at him, and Sam braces himself for the feeling of his stomach being left behind on Asgard. He will never get used to it, but at least he hasn’t puked at all tonight because of it.

He hears shouting from the bar when he hits the grass on the other side, and takes a moment to appreciate how smoothly everything had gone up to this point. He knew it couldn’t last. It never lasts.

When he finally gathers the courage to stand back up and make his way indoors to face whatever chaos the assassin trio has cooked up for him to diffuse, he sees that most of the bar has already cleared out. Probably because one of the dynamic Russian duo has stabbed the counter with their knife.

Again.

“What do you mean you’re cutting us off?” Natasha’s practically growling at the poor bartender, who is holding his own remarkably well for being faced with the force of a tipsy Black Widow, who is surprisingly terrifying. “You do understand that this is supposed to be a bachelor party, yes? Which means as much alcohol as he can drink, yes?”

“Yes ma’am, except for the fact that the two of you have already drunk three bottles of tequila and a bottle of vodka. Each. Not to mention your friend over there finishing off my supply of good whiskey.” Sam glances to the bench the bartender had motioned to, noting Clint weakly raising his hand in acknowledgment before reaching for what appeared to be an empty glass. “So yeah, I’m cutting you off, and I’m calling the other bars and telling them not to serve you. No one can healthily consume that much alcohol in an hour.”

“Do not make me come back there an-”

“Please stop.” Sam grabs Natasha’s arm to stop her as she goes to pull the knife out of the counter, likely to stab the bartender. Sam doesn’t want the poor man losing a limb for doing his job, but he better be thankful for Sam risking life and limb to come between Natasha and getting Barnes drunk. “Just find another bar. Or go back to the tower. I’m sure Stark has alcohol somewhere.”

“You don’t remember? The Maximoffs cleared out the tower after Banner found him passed out in the hallway.” Shit. Barnes had a point. The twins had cleaned out the whole tower after that night. Not fun for anyone finding Stark like that, let alone Banner, who cared so much about him.

“Then find another bar. But don’t hurt poor - what’s your name? John - John for doing his job and taking care of his customers.” Sam started to usher them out, hoping that they’d just go along with it. He had to pause for a second while Natasha retrieved her knife and Barnes picked Clint up off his bench. 

“You’re not getting any drinks in this town!” John yells out after them, immediately ducking when Natasha turns and throws her knife at him. And that’s another bar he’ll have to cross off his list of places to hang about where no one will recognize him.

“Please tell me you didn’t hurt any civilians.” Sam asks this when they finally get far enough away from the bar that there’s no chance anyone from their marvelous crew will turn around and decide to, say, set it on fire.

“Don’t worry, Wilson. She only hurt that guy’s inventory.” And yeah, it’s still kinda creepy when Barnes smiles at him. But he’ll get over it. Someday. Hopefully. “So how’s my idiot fiancé?”

“They’re finally done with the whole ‘presenting their best selves’ thing and are on to the actual drinking. When I left them they were just starting. Shouldn’t be long before Stark has snuck enough Asgardian ale that he gets drunk. And I’m sure that’ll be a sight.”

“That’ll be fun. Make sure Steve doesn’t go overboard and try fighting anyone.”

“Yessir. But no guarantees on the fighting front. I couldn’t keep him from fighting you.”

“Shut up, Wilson.”

“Yessir.”

“Are you going to keep chitchatting or are we going to find another bar?” Natasha has somehow managed to guide them to an open field, and Sam’s not quite sure how drunk she actually is because she seems to believe that there is a bar anywhere nearby.

“Hey, Tash?”

“Yes, Clint?”

“Am I really drunk, or are we in the middle of a field?”

“Both, Clint.”

“Ah. Good to know.”

Natasha pats him on the head, and reaches into her pocket for something. _Please don’t be a gun. Please don’t be a gun. Pleasedon’tletherfinallyhavecrackedandthatbeagun._ Thankfully, what she actually pulls out is her cell phone. Odd. Hopefully she hasn’t somehow weaponized the phone. Sam wouldn’t put it past her.

But she just taps her phone a couple times before putting it to her ear and mumbling some nonsense-that’s-probably-Russian-or-some-other-form-of-Eastern-European-Language (don’t blame him, he took Arabic in college) into it. Once she hangs up, the air in the field starts to shiver, eventually revealing a quinjet.

“Aaaaaaand that’s what she was mumbling about. Thought I heard one of the little ones chattering.” Clint groans, pulling himself up from where he had fallen when Natasha had patted him. 

“I am not little,” Wanda calls with obvious annoyance from the quinjet after the back ramp has finished opening up.

“Keep telling yourself that, tiny princess.” Clint stumbles up the ramp, pausing to give Wanda a hug and shove his face against her hair. That actually may have been an attempt at a forehead kiss. Sam wasn’t about to try and figure out Clint and his weird dynamic with those kids.

“I’ve got to get back to Asgard. Make sure no one’s killed anyone just yet.” In response, Natasha nods, shooing Barnes into the jet. “I’ll ask Heimdall to just put me down wherever you land, so please land within the next hour. I’d rather not end up in midair. Stark wouldn’t let me take the wings back without letting him ‘upgrade this outdated piece of army crap’, so I’m not getting them back for a while. And dying is not on my agenda.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” Natasha’s got that natural confidence that was either bred or trained into her written all over her face.

“Why does that sound scarier than it should?”

 

“Because you know me. Don’t let Steve back on Earth for at least… twelve hours? Twelve hours. That should be enough time for everyone to have some fun.”

\--.--

Barnes is going to kill him.

No. Barnes is going to rip his heart out through his throat. With his own wings. How, Sam has no idea, but Bucky would find a way.

Somehow, in the half an hour Sam had been gone, everyone had managed to drink enough to lose all sense of self-preservation, which is probably due to the Asgardian liquor. Well, everyone but Bruce, anyways. But he had his hands full with Stark.

Barnes is going to make it slow and painful.

Sam ducked under what appeared to be a passed out member of the Warriors Three, doing his best to make his way to the center of the room, where Steve was drunkenly challenging someone to a fight. Something about respecting his teammates, it seems like the guy was the one sneaking Tony drinks. Apparently, he didn't get the memo that Stark is a) human, and b) has a _problem_. They should really get on Stark about that. After Sam keeps Steve from dying first, of course.

Barnes is going to kill them all.

“Steve. Cap. Seriously. You might want to walk away from this one.” Sam tries to put himself between the two like a human shield. Not the same as vibranium, but hopefully enough. So he continues to chastise Steve, “This guy is two times your size. And a god. And that’s actually remarkable, do you know how scary this is for normal people? Actually, no, you don’t, you’re drunk.” Sam takes this moment, this moment just before Steve pushes past him to fight the Asgardian, to appreciate just how little trouble the twins and Vision get into. They’re practically perfect; he’s going to start hanging out with them because they don’t do stupid shit like punch a god in the face for slipping their teammate alcohol.

And now that Steve’s out of Sam’s grip, he’s full-on attacking this Asgardian warrior, and that’s entirely not what Sam wanted. “Goddammit, Steve. I promised the assassins that you wouldn’t get into any fights.” Sam looks around, trying to find Thor to hopefully pull the two of them off each other. Unfortunately, the only people he can find are Bruce and… Stark. Joy. Might as well get it over with.

“How are things goin’ over here?” Focusing on Bruce was always the better idea, especially because Stark appeared to be plastered to his side. If he couldn’t control Steve, he could at least monitor these two.

“Just, you know, dealing with the billionaire here.” Bruce pushes Tony’s head off of his shoulder, but it’s fruitless as he’s so drunk and just falls back on him again. “He’s a handful.” 

Sam looks down enough to see that their barstools are technically just one barstool because Tony has maneuvered so that his legs are wrapped around Bruce’s waist. He’s got one hand in the scientist’s back pocket while the other is in his hair, and he’s mumbling sleepily, or maybe just drunkenly, into Banner’s shoulder, and it sounds like something along the lines of, “Your hair is so soft, I love the way you science. Do you science your hair this soft? Because I could totally just pet your head all day.”

Sam shakes his head, Natasha would love this, she’s been trying to get everyone else to place bets on when Stark would finally give in and take their resident biologist on a date. They’ve been tiptoeing around each other since Ultron, but no one other than he and Nat believed it would amount to anything. 

“I was wondering if you knew where Thor is.” Sam rubs the back of his neck a little, maybe just a little embarrassed that he’s supposed to be the designated not-drunk supervisor tonight and already Steve’s getting into fights and Tony’s drunk off his ass. “He’s probably the only one who can break up Steve and the god-bros over there. But I can see you’re a little busy right now. Should I leave you two alone?” 

“Dear Lord, please don’t leave me alone with him. He’s a madman who does not understand personal space. Save me.” Sam can tell that Bruce is joking, he can’t get the smile off his face, and the small amount of time he manages to succeed in pulling off a straight face, he loses his composure the second that Stark mumbles something or pushes his hand through his hair or presses his face closer to him. “Unfortunately, even I can see that Steve’s just a tad outmatched over there.” His eyes scan the crowd. “I think I saw Thor talking to the Lady Sif by the bar earlier, but there’s no real guarantee he’s still there.” There’s some mumbling into his shoulder courtesy of Tony, and he goes to pat the drunk man on the head and whisper, “No, Tony, Sam is not trying to steal me from you. Don’t worry.”

When they’ll get their heads out of their asses and confess actual emotions to each other is a mystery.

Sam rolls his eyes, walking towards where the bar was situated. Hopefully Thor would actually be there. Steve is starting to get tired and the other guy is managing to land a few blows. Not like they were hard blows. But the principle is what really matters.

Sam scans the bar as he gets closer. Who ever thought that he’d be able to lose Thor? Of all people? Certainly not anyone who hasn’t been to Asgard. Why did Barnes leave him in charge again?

“I do not believe that is any of your business. What you are speaking of is between myself and the Lady Jane, no others!” Ah. Yes. There he is. Yelling at someone. About something. Probably something about Jane. That’s usually what Thor’s yelling about. Sam really needs a raise.

Sam reaches Thor and pulls him away briefly from his fellow Asgardian. “Thor, buddy, let’s back off this guy and whatever they’re implying.” 

“Ah! Samuel! You can help me teach our friend here to not ask questions which have no bearing on his existence!”

“Yeah, except no. Because I really need you to help me with Steve.” Sam’s not even sure that Thor was listening to him up until he jerked back at Steve’s name.

“What does our good Captain require help with? He seemed quite pleased when last I saw him.” There’s a trace of a smirk, like Thor is relishing in the fact that he has provided a bachelor party of godly proportions.

Sam makes a loose hand gesture in Steve’s general direction. “Just look over towards the feast tables? Yeah?”

Thor’s head swivels just in time to see Steve take a punch to the face, sending him sprawling across the nearby table. “Ah. Yes. That. That does seem to be a problem.” His own problems here seem forgotten as he says, “Allow me.” Thor moves towards the commotion, cutting a path through the crowd with ease. It’s easy to forget that he’s a prince here considering the way he acts with the Avengers.

Seeing that Thor has stepped between the two men and is simultaneously holding Steve back and berating the man for intoxicating Tony, Sam works his way back towards the Bifrost, figuring that no one’s going to miss him right now.

\--.--

It’s always a sign that things have gone terribly wrong when you’re surrounded by burning buildings when you touch down.

Sam knows that he deserves a vacation. He puts up with too much of this shit.

“Guys?” Sam calls out gently, knowing that if Heimdall put him down here, the group of assassins should be around somewhere. “I thought I told you not to burn anything down while I was gone? Who broke that rule?”

“FUCK YOU, DOOM! FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKIN’ ROBOTS!” Sam turns to see Clint yelling at the sky, bow in hand, still clearly drunk. “GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKIN’ KIDS!”

“Clint? What are you yelling about?” Sam dodges a sloppy swing from Clint’s bow, noting that the man doesn’t even have his quiver. “And where are Bucky and Tash? Please tell me they’re not burning down those buildings.”

“HE TOOK MY KIDS, MAN! HE TOOK MY FUCKIN’ KIDS!”

“Clint, volume,” Sam almost warns as he winces because Clint has either removed his hearing aids or is too drunk to care about his volume level. It’s probably both. Back on topic: “What do you mean by that? Think this out with me. Who’re the ‘kids’, and who took them?” Sam gently pulls the bow from Clint’s trembling fingers to keep him from swinging it around helplessly.

Surprisingly, Clint doesn’t seem too distressed about the bow being taken away. More distressed about whatever must’ve happened while Sam was away. “Doom. Fuckin’ Doom took my kids,” Clint basically whines, sounding absolutely pitiful.

“Okay, but who are the kids?”

“Th- The fast one. And the weird one. Those ones. The kids, you know? The kids. He took my kids.” It’s like watching a trainwreck as Clint deteriorates into mumbling about kids and how stupid they are and how much he hates Doom right now.

 

“Pietro and Wanda? Did Doom take Pietro and Wanda?” Sam does his best to keep Clint focused, but the archer may be too drunk to actually keep on topic. Either too drunk or too distraught. Sam snaps his fingers in Clint’s face to regain his attention. “Clint, I need you to focus for me, man. Did Doom take Pietro and Wanda?”

After a moment, Clint nods vaguely, still searching the sky for something.

That’s progress, and Sam’s at least relieved about that. “Okay, so where are Bucky and Tasha?”

“Bucky and- Why would you worry about Bucky and Tasha? He took my kids. Priorities, Wilson, Jesus.”

“Ignore him, all he’s gonna do is ramble about his kids. Idiot.” Sam jumps as Natasha appears next to him, covered in ash and blood. “We need to move on, they’re not here.” Bucky makes an approving noise from Sam’s other side, and Sam really needs to make some new friends that _aren’t_ pissy former assassins.

“Alright. Now that we’re done with both confusing and scaring the sober supervisor, would someone explain what the hell is going on?” 

“Doom took Pietro and Wanda while we were in the last bar.” In comparison to Clint, Natasha is as cool as a Russian winter. “We’re getting them back. Let’s move.” Natasha turns away, walking towards the fire. “Clint, stop yelling at the sky!” Natasha reaches into her pocket and pulls out the quinjet keys, clicking the button to drop the ramp.

“Well that’s awfully vague. Why would he take them?” Sam asks as they walk up the ramp. “Besides the whole, Clint’s children thing.” On the side, he can see Clint’s lips move as he grumbles something more about children being idiots again before slouching in a seat.  
“Probably for the same reason he tried to nab Steve two weeks ago. Who we’re not telling about this, by the way,” Bucky says as he pushes past Sam, moving towards the pilot’s seat to start the take-off procedures.

“Why aren’t we telling Steve? I feel like this is something we should tell Steve.” Sam’s looking at the two up front in hopes for an answer, but instead he finds that he lurches as the jet’s engines start, so he ends up grabbing the seat next to Clint, who has fallen asleep.

“Because he’ll get that stupid kicked puppy face and stop his party. And we can take care of this before his party is over.” 

Sam nods in vague understanding. He doesn’t agree with it, but still, he settles in for a bumpy flight.

It’s only an hour before they touch down. Sam realizes that they were probably already somewhere in Europe when he got there, because those mountains definitely belong to Latveria. It should be mildly concerning, as they started the night in New York, but he’s grown used to Natasha and her ability to fly planes way too fast.

They disembark onto an open field, and Clint takes off at a full sprint without hesitation, shouting towards the nearby forest, “WANDAAAAA! I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE! I CAN FEEL YOUR BRAIN!”

Upon Sam’s confused face, Natasha feels the need to clarify: “He thinks he can feel her reaching out telepathically. Don’t worry too much, he’s done this at the last three bases.” Natasha casually checks her Widow’s Bites as they stroll towards the point where Clint disappeared into the forest.

And, from what Sam can tell, it seems that they’re just following Clint into the woods because he seems to know (relatively) where he’s going, and maybe that’s enough for everyone else, but Sam thinks it’s a little ridiculous.

After a few minutes, there’s another base through the trees, and the approach isn’t subtle by any means because by the time they get there, Clint is in the thick of things and already swinging at anything that moves, which leaves Sam and Natasha in the trees while Clint draws attention. Men are dropping like flies to the sides while Clint is swinging his bow.

And it’s roughly at this point that Bucky jogs past Sam and Natasha, heading straight into the middle of the crossfire, muttering very loudly and very exasperatedly, “That lil’ fucker forgot his fuckin’ quiver.”

Which, when Sam looks, does make more sense as to why Clint just ran out into the fray and explains why he’s bashing peoples’ heads in with his bow instead of being civilized and doing it with his fists like a normal person. Still, he’s getting the job done while drunk and without his quiver, which Sam has to admit is pretty impressive.

Now with Bucky out in the thick of things, it’s him and Clint against a flock of HYDRA agents in hand-to-hand until there’s enough of a pause for Bucky to hand over the damn quiver, and that’s when agents start falling faster, arrows in skulls, death written across Clint’s face because apparently he’s taking no one’s shit. And next to him, Natasha is just fiddling with her Widow Bites because apparently, Bucky and Clint have everything covered for the most part.

Sam, for his part, is still spotting at least with a rifle, but it seems that Clint and Bucky have almost everything covered with a mix of bullets and arrows and occasionally rocks because, yes, apparently Clint can throw rocks and knock dangerous men unconscious; by the end of the ground work, Sam hasn’t even had to take a shot and suddenly they’re taking their job inside because Clint insists, by screaming at the sky, that Wanda is here, which, by whatever logic, must mean Pietro is also here.

And while Clint and Natasha are now leading the ground sweep through the actual building (Sam watches Natasha kill a man with her thighs, and he solemnly swears he will never piss her off ever again), Sam’s moving alongside Bucky, who’s muttering under his breath about Steve and how, if Steve were here, they’d be done twice as fast, and how Steve’s a fucking moron. Sam has no idea why Bucky’s currently mad at Steve, but he knows why Bucky will be mad at Steve in about two hours when this bachelor party nightmare finally ends.

“WANDAAAA!” comes Clint’s howl from the frontline, and there’s another flurry of arrows that ends up embedded in HYDRA agents left and right, and as these men drop, there’s a hole in the throngs of them.

And through it all, Sam can see Wanda and Pietro.

So Clint was right. Incredibly drunk and slightly crazed, but definitely right.

Sam’s got his handgun and heading into it, taking guys out mostly with his gun, but when one tries to get behind him and catch him off guard, Sam clips him with his elbow and then, when the guy is down, shoots him in the knee. Tonight has been too much of an adventure, and he’s not putting up with anyone’s shit at this point.

Meanwhile, Bucky and Tasha are back-to-back, both wielding handguns and act just as a tornado of bullets, basically, while Clint is bashing guys’ heads in on the other side of the room and screaming, “YOU FUCKIN’ TOOK MY KIDS, I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU SONS OF BITCHES!”

Luckily, not a lot of them are putting up a fight once their unconscious, and when they’re all knocked out, Clint actually seems to have zero intention of killing anyone because he’s rushing to the twins. He sweeps the two of them into his arms, burying his face in Wanda’s curls.

As Sam approaches the three, he hears Clint mumbling to them. He can just make out a muted “Don’t you ever scare me like that again” followed by a “We won’t” from Pietro.  
Clint pulls back, leaving his arms around the twin’s shoulders. He turns them around, and starts walking back towards the others.

“You alright there, guys?” Bucky sounds only mildly concerned, and Sam follows his eyes, noticing that Wanda is being supported by Clint and Pietro. There’s blood seeping from a hole in her tights, as well as from a number of cuts on her arms and a particularly nasty slice through her jacket, and her eyes are just fading back from the red glow of her powers. Glancing over Pietro, he seems to be in pretty much the same shape.

“We will get better. What matters now is that we are free.” Pietro is leaning into Clint’s grip as he says this, and don’t they just look like the creepiest family on the planet tonight. Sam hopes that they all plan to take showers when they get back to the tower, because he is not dealing with Stark when he realizes how much blood could potentially end up in his couch. 

“Are you tired? I am very tired.” Pietro murmurs towards Wanda, swaying for a moment before he drops to the ground. 

There’s like a half a second of everyone watching him before Clint says, “He’ll be fine. Food though. He needs food. Actually, right now he could probably use a glucose shot. But then food.”

Bucky and Natasha look at each other for a moment before Bucky shrugs, walks over to where Pietro is laying on the ground, and slings his spent body over his shoulder before saying, “Alright. Let’s get the boy his glucose.” He turns towards the quinjet and starts jogging back.

“Wait. WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH MY KID?” Clint takes off after Bucky, attempting to drag Wanda along, before realising that she couldn’t keep up. He turns back and sweeps her into his arms, continuing on his way, shouting the whole time, “GIVE HIM BACK, BARNES, YOU SON OF A BITCH! I JUST GOT HIM BACK!”

“Why must I be friends with these idiots.” Natasha says to Sam before taking off after them as well.

Sam looks around for a moment, taking stock of the bodies on the ground around him. He feels like he deserves a raise. Except that he doesn’t get paid for looking after this idiocrasy. He doesn’t get paid for anything. He should get paid.

\---

It’s roughly an hour later and they’re back at the tower, just in time to meet up with the other half of the party, apparently, as Steve is walking in with Tony and Bruce close behind him. Thor is in the back, swinging Mjolnir around like it’s nobody’s business. Honestly though, walking is not the right word for what Steve and Tony are doing. It’s more like they’re awkwardly schlumping in, shoulders hunched, staggering a little bit, eyes unfocused.

“Fun night?” Sam asks Bruce, as the two continue schlumping towards their rooms. Bruce makes a vague-affirmative sounding noise, accompanied by a gesture that Sam can only take to mean ‘And you?’

“Well, only three people ended up in medical, and only one of them was actually at the party. So pretty good overall.”

“Who ended up in medical?”

“Clint, Pietro, and Wanda. At some point in the night, the twins got kid-” Sam is unintentionally cut off by Bucky’s frustrated groan before he can finish his sentence.

“You fuckin’ idiot.” He’s addressing Steve, and he’s clearly not pleased about the state his fiancé is in, what with the black eye and all. “You couldn’t keep yourself from getting punched in the face for one night. What did you do this time?” Bucky gives Steve barely enough time to open his mouth before cutting him off and going, “Y’know what, I don’t care.” Sam looks over to see Bucky gently grab the back of Steve’s neck, dragging him towards the elevator. “You would not believe the night I’ve had.” Bucky pulls him in close and buries his face into Steve’s hair.

And Steve’s just standing there and rolling with it, face still stuck in the bright grin that appeared on his face the second he saw Bucky.

Two idiots in love.

The elevator doors close, and they’re gone.

“Anyways.” Bruce’s voice snaps Sam back to attention. “I would love to hear all about your night. And how the hell those three ended it in medical. But I think I should stop Tony before he accidentally stumbles out a window.” Bruce shrugs before turning and going after Tony, who, yeah, is actually getting far too close to that window. He appears to be tapping the window as if it’s a computer screen.

“Yeah. You might want to stay with him tonight. He seems pretty out of it, even for him.” Sam watches as Bruce walks over and gently starts to guide Tony away from the windows and towards his room. Tony notices that Bruce is the one pulling him away and makes a high-pitched celebratory noise, before latching onto Bruce’s arm and leaning his head against the scientist’s shoulder. One hand reaches up to play with the ends of Bruce’s hair.

Bruce smiles down at the inventor’s head that is now flopped onto his shoulder. “That sounds like an excellent plan. Come on, Tony, bedtime.”

“You’re gonna stay with me, right? Because I’ve always wanted you to stay over. I bet you look amazing in the morning.” Tony mumbles into Bruce, sliding his hand across Bruce’s chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt. “All fluffy and soft.”

Bruce laughs gently at Tony, hiding his smile in the shorter man’s hair. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed and let Sam get some sleep. With any luck, we won’t have to be awake for two or three more days.” 

As Bruce drags Tony away, Sam smiles to himself. All the idiots in his flock are back in the tower and safe.

At least for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will come when we get around to it? Hit us up on tumblr
> 
> aro-space and skylarkevanson

**Author's Note:**

> This alone took us almost two months to produce. The next one will be up in a couple weeks and will be incredibly, horrendously long and will contain drunken Avengers and another kidnapping.
> 
> Hit us up on tumblr at aro-space and skylarkevanson


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